Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

Mark

T he MEDEVAC was inbound. They were quick. It seemed like the call had just gone back to the Tactical Operations Center. The sun was dropping behind the mountains and darkness was creeping in. I was okay with that. Our night vision goggles and infrared sensors would give us the advantage.

The fighting hadn't died down since Dozer had been hit. They had been ambushed by a group of insurgents hiding out at the edge of the town. Since then we had killed three of the bastards, but the others had scattered into the hills and now we were waiting. For the MEDEVAC, and for the insurgents.

"You having any luck?" I called out to Brady over the radio.

"Negative, the fuckers know we have night vision and heat sensors. They must have fox holes dug into the mountains. They were ready for us to be here." I could hear Brady's frustration through his growls.

I knew that would be the answer before I asked the question. If he had seen something, he would have said so. This was the part of the fight I hated the most. The waiting.

We couldn't get our guy out of there until we cleared out these hills. Sweat dripped down my back as I waited. Dozer was patched up for the moment, but it wasn't good. His team was in a decent defensive position, but the landing zone was wide open. I knew how this would go. The insurgents were hiding in premade dug outs or holes, probably with a good vantage point on the landing zone. They would wait for the MEDEVAC to land and then light it up. The whole situation was fucked. They were hidden too well for us to see them. Once the MED helicopter landed, they would be an easy target.

"Keep your eyes sharp, maybe we'll get lucky and see some movement before the MED gets here." It was a long shot. They knew that the Green Beret team had been dropped off by helicopter. They would also leave by helicopter. So the insurgents just had to stay in their hiding places and not move. They likely didn't know that someone was hurt. They didn't need to. Sooner or later a helicopter would come back, and they could shoot it when it landed. That was all they needed. We would have a very small window to stop them.

The MED bird was close now. Communications still sucked. By time we could talk clearly they'd be right on top of us. They hadn't acknowledged my last transmission, so I was pretty sure they didn't hear it. I'd been trying to tell them to standby. The area wasn't safe.

"Archer Zero-Nine, Dustoff, we are through the west valley and inbound to the landing zone, two minutes." It was Captain Walker.

"Fuck!" I yelled in the cockpit. My gut twisted painfully with worry. She was flying right over the hills that the insurgents were hiding in. It was too late to tell her to turn around. The minute she did they'd light her up. She was already an easy target on the approach, but the assholes were waiting. Biding their time until she landed.

It was the only opportunity we had to come up with a plan, so I didn't call her and tell her to go back. The thought of Walker being shot at made my gut cramp. I didn't want any of our people being shot at, but knowing it was her made it worse.

Artie responded to my outburst from his station in the front seat, "Hey boss, I have her in sight. Maybe push them to the south and hope the creeps come out of hiding?" He'd taken stock of the situation and knew sending them back would be a death sentence, same as I did.

That tactic rarely worked, by now the insurgents knew our playbook and knew to be patient. They would wait for her to land, that's when she would be most vulnerable. We didn't have much of a choice though; it was the only option. "Dustoff, Archer one-nine, the landing zone is not safe, need you to push south until we can clear it."

"Negative Archer, patient is critical. We don't have time to wait, we're bypassing the landing zone and going straight to the patient." God dammit. The landing zone we had picked before the mission was the only flat terrain that could be landed on easily. If she was going straight to the team she'd be landing in a tight area, making her more vulnerable. She was already on her approach to land, all we could do was make sure the MED chopper didn't get shot at. It was going to take some skill on our part, and some luck on theirs. Good thing my team was the best.

"This chick's got some balls, Boss." Artie said, a hint of admiration in his tone.

I cut him off, "Never mind that, she's flying right over top of the shitheads. Get your eyes out in front of her. They might open fire at any moment." I keyed the radio and called Laura. "Two-nine, this is Zero-nine," I called out to her and Brady, "MED is doing their own thing. Put your eyes behind them, we're watching the front." Laura was two-nine, being the ranking officer Brady would default to her call sign.

I scanned the area ferociously; I knew that the shooting would start any minute. I risked a glance at the MED aircraft, they were nearly there and still hauling ass. I had to admire the approach and landing. She brought the aircraft screaming in, and at the last minute pitched the nose up to the sky to slow down rapidly and practically slammed the aircraft down. No time wasted.

What was even more impressive was that the area was barely bigger than the helicopter. That type of landing took real skill. This was the reason I'd chosen her and her team. They had a reputation for being the best. You didn't get that kind of reputation by standing by like a timid mouse. Admiration and irritation mixed within me as she maneuvered her aircraft to the ground. I knew I'd been right to pick her, but I also knew she was going to make my job harder. Her willingness to disregard her own safety meant that we would have to be doubly protective of her on missions, like now.

I kept my eyes on them, Dozer's team was moving him in now. I keyed the radio again, "Game time people. They're moving him." I switched frequencies and called the MED, "Dustoff, be advised, shooting's going to start any second now."

As if on cue, a barrage of bullets opened up from the west. Before I could say anything, Artie yelled from the front, "I'm on it, turn left. Clear to fire?" The gunner always asked for clearance before pulling the trigger. With friendlies and enemies in such close proximity to each other, we had to double check each other, otherwise you might accidentally send bullets toward people on your own team.

I glanced down at his video. The kid was quick. He saw the round streak across his screen and had followed them to the shooter and acquired him in seconds. "Clear to fire," I told him. The aircraft vibrated to the thundering of the cannon. He let a barrage of explosive bullets out. I keyed the radio "Dustoff, your approach path is compromised, you can't depart the same direction. Take off and break east. Depart to the east and south." It was a longer route out of this valley, but there were no enemies in those directions.

"Roger that," her voice had this saucy edge coming over the radio. It was probably meant as a growl, with begrudging obedience. In a different situation I would have clung to that voice, pushed her to hear more of that sultry defiance. For now, I was just grateful she was doing as I'd asked and trusting me to guide her.

The gun thundered, shaking the aircraft as Artie sent three barrages of 30mm fire into the sniper. The shooter evaporated under the explosive rounds. He switched his video to a wider field of view and was already scanning for the next shooter. "I got another one. Shit, he has an RPG and he's aiming at the MEDEVAC! Bank left, bank left! Arming missiles!" he yelled.

There was no time to question. No time to worry. I couldn't afford the luxury of worrying about Jen, of thinking about the danger she was in. Emotions took a back seat to the job we needed to do in order to keep everyone alive. In battle, emotion made you reckless and more often than not, got you, or someone else, killed.

Following Artie's directive, I pulled hard on the controls and sent our Apache screaming hard to the left. My helicopter shook violently as the missile detached itself and raced through the air toward its intended target. I could see the bastard now for myself. He was firing again.